What's in a Name?
by urmuhsureokayno
Summary: Every name has a meaning. Series of one shots inspired by the meaning of many of the characters names. Update: William Turner Spoilers
1. Elizabeth

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. Disney owns it all. The name meanings were taken from bostonuk . com

**Elizabeth**

_Gentle, affectionate and tolerant, you are nonetheless determined and ambitious with the ability to lead. Sympathetic and understanding, you are a humanitarian who wishes to improve the lives of others less fortunate. You have a keen intellect, strong intuition and creative ideas which are always put to practical purpose. You are loved by others for your inspiring optimism and for being a genuine friend._

The town of Port Royal seemed to never stop moving. From the street venders to the militia, something was always stirring and buzzing with the newest sales pitch or the beat to keep in step with. As the morning slowly faded into the afternoon and the hot Caribbean sun sent rays of heat down onto to the cobbled streets, the women still busied themselves with idle gossip as they strolled down the street, their bodies sweating and over heating under their layers of clothing; all except one.

She had grown tired of propriety and all the things that came with it. She was tired of corsets, lace fans, and big, empty houses. She had become weary of the evenings spent gossiping with her neighbors or doing needlepoint in large overstuffed chairs. She didn't need this to be happy. All she needed was adventure, her love by her side, and the blessing of a friend.

The dress she wore was simple, just a plain blue fabric that fell around her booted feet. Her golden hair fell down her back in raged curls, but her appearance didn't matter to her in the least. In fact, she hadn't even looked in a looking glass that morning. She had to talk to one man and one man alone and she knew that she could show up covered from head to toe in mud and he would still talk to her. Her knuckles raped lightly on the door of his office and she heard his muffled footsteps as he crossed the room, the heels of his shoes clicking on the cold, wood floor.

The door creaked open and Commodore James Norrington stood in the doorway. His uniform was wrinkled and his eyes tired from a lack of sleep. His powered wig sat perfectly on his head, but it was obvious that he wasn't expecting company.

"James," She greeted him a smile before stepping inside. "How are you today?"

"Fine," He replied as he eyed her curiously. "Are you alright Miss Swann?"

"Oh yes, I'm perfect James, just perfect." She said, her smile filling the room. "I do have a rather dire need to speak with you though. It is a matter of the most importance and it cannot wait until later."

"Please, have a seat." He motioned to a stiff brown chair in front of his desk as he made himself comfortable in the large armchair behind the desk. Her attire was anything but proper and this struck James as odd. Elizabeth, of all people, was always one to look her best. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure." Elizabeth said as she sat into the chair. The stiff back pressed against her own was only another reminder of why she was here. "Although, I do have some news that may surprise you." She took a deep breath, her lungs expanding and then shrinking as her heart pounded in her chest. "Will and I are leaving."

"Oh?" His eyes widened a bit, but he refused to accept what he knew was coming. "Where are you going this time of year? I'm sure I can get a ship to escort you-"

"No, James, we're not going on holiday." She said her hand reaching across the table and landing on his to quiet him. "We're taking to the sea," She paused, her hand slowly falling back into her lap. "For good, James."

"Elizabeth I-"

"You understand perfectly well." She said. Her smile lost the shine it once hand and took on a hint of sympathy and sorrow that the Commodore didn't like to see burden his lost loves face. "After the adventure with-"

"Adventure? Is that what your calling it?" Norrington stiffed and his eyes bore into Elizabeth's. "You almost dying and me having to save not only your own life, but the lives of the two reckless pirates who tried to save you in the first place? Elizabeth, that wasn't some fairytale story. Those were real undead pirates and that was no adventure. It was a brutal kidnapping and attempted murder of a governor's daughter."

"Is that all I am to you James? The governor's daughter?" Elizabeth too stiffened and her eyes flared. "It's true, I owe you my life and the lives of my future husband and his best friend, but James," She said her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "_You _are _my_ best friend, my oldest friend, and my most dear. I respect you James, and that is why I came here today. Not to anger you, not to speak unkind words to you, but to tell you that I'm sick of all this; this constant game of pretend. The world isn't about gossip and tea!"

"Then what is the world about?" He asked, his eyes tired and sad. "If you are so wise Miss Swann then tell me."

"I don't know that James," She said, her head shaking sadly. "That's why I'm leaving. I want to discover that. I want to discover the freedom, the independence, the glory, and the love that Jack has. I want to find what I mean, what all this means, I want to go out there and _live_ James, really live."

"Then who am I to stop you?" He said, refusing to meet her eye. "If your heart is so intent on sailing to the horizon, then who am I to tell you that you can't?"

"I didn't come here for permission; I came here to tell you. Also, to get your blessing." Her eyes were welling with tears and she stood up, indignant and unwilling to show any amount of weakness in front of this man.

"That's something I can't give you." He said, his eyes still fixed on the grain of his desk.

"Then I will leave anyway, with the burden of knowing that it upset you. I'm sorry you're so damn hard to please James."

"Haven't even left port and already you are swearing like a sailor. Jack Sparrow taught you that I suppose. Maybe I was wrong in giving him a break. Pirates are traitors to society and their country; who says they deserve to get what they want when even I can't."

"It is not always the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen." Elizabeth said, her hand resting on the door handle.

"Who said that? Jack Sparrow?" James said, his eyes finally meeting hers.

"No," She said, her head rising proudly. "Aristotle."

With that she left, the door clicking shut softly behind her. James stood there in his empty quarters. They suddenly felt all the more hollow and he felt so utterly alone.

"Damn it all," He said before walking briskly to the window and throwing it open. As soon as Elizabeth shut the door of the fort he called down, "May you have fair winds and fine seas my friend."

Elizabeth's chocolate eyes stared up at her best friend before she smiled; a smile that filled James Norrington's empty heart. Her mouth slowly formed the words, "Thank you" before she disappeared into the quickly moving crowds of Port Royal.

The town of Port Royal seemed to never stop moving. From the street venders to the militia, something was always stirring and buzzing with the newest sales pitch or the beat to keep in step with. As the morning slowly faded into the afternoon and the hot Caribbean sun sent rays of heat down onto to the cobbled streets, the women still busied themselves with idle gossip as they strolled down the street, their bodies sweating and over heating under their layers of clothing; all except one.


	2. Jack

**Jack**

_Enigmatic and mysterious, you are a profound thinker and philosopher with great analytical ability and strong intuition. Perceptive and understanding you have a wonderful ability to read people. Your creative imagination and eloquence gives you a natural potential for writing and poetry. Very independent and individualistic you follow your own creed._

Jack Sparrow loved rum and rum loved Jack Sparrow. He drank it when he was celebrating and he drank it when he was sad. He'd open a bottle when he was bored or during a gale. Neither time nor place mattered to Jack and his rum. The two belonged together and it was a rare sight indeed to see them apart.

The pirate captain had three loves in his life and only three. The first was his ship, the dark beauty that understood him better than anyone. If it was legal and possible, Lord knows he'd marry that girl. The first week he spent aboard her after their ten year separation, he couldn't take his hands off her. His jeweled fingers would always be stroking the helm or running down the railing as if he was reminding himself that she was really there and really his. It was a beautiful sight to see, a man whose soul was complete and a ship whose captain had returned.

His second love was the sea, and what a cold, mysterious mistress she is. One minute the _Pearl_ is gracefully gliding through the sparkling waters, the waves lapping at her sides and the spray leaving drops of sparkling water in the captain's beard and the next she's beating at the ship, the waves crashing and attempting to claim the ship and its cargo as her own.

That's when the captain really came to life. His eyes would light up and a crooked, golden, glimmering smile would appear on his face. His hoarse voice could be heard, screaming a song over the wind, and the _Pearl_ would fight and battle her way through the harsh waters. Jack's girl would always come through on top, her dark hull still floating atop the sea. The waves would lap gently against Her, apologizing for their fight.

His third and final love was, of course, rum. The amber liquid that slid down his throat like liquid fire was something he desperately clung to. They had been best friends since he was not yet a teenager and they fell in love when his mother died.

Maybe it was a combination of the circumstances that lead him to the drink and the drink itself, but whenever he drank he because very philosophical. All these thoughts and ideas would rush into his brain as soon as the third gulp had gone down. Reasons for his being where he was, where he was going to be, and where he had been would all suddenly come to him, and whenever he could, he wrote them down.

The brown, leather bound book was filled with his eloquent black writing. Pages upon pages of black ink, curling and conforming into letters and words that would all combine to explain one thought; one single drunken ramble.

He never re-read them. He'd drink, think of something, write it down, and never think of it again. It was that simple. Jack figured that one day someone would find his Rum Book useful, whether it was to find the meaning of life or to start a fire, he didn't much care. It gave him a way to express himself that didn't jeopardize his wicked reputation and that was enough for him.

The _Black Pearl_, the sea, and a bottle of rum was enough for to make him happy, but it wasn't enough to protect him. He had gotten himself caught by the lobster tails, and while he thought over his crimes and his life of sin in the stuffy Port Royal jail, his first mate rummaged though his cabin trying to give herself a clue on how to get her captain out.

That's when she discovered it, a small leather bound book. The thing had been buried under a map of Europe on Jack's large oak desk and she really didn't think much of it at first. Then she opened it, her dark eyes soaking in the words on the page. Words no other soul was supposed to read while Jack Sparrow still lived.

The crew of the _Pearl_ eventually retrieved their captain. In the shadows of night they silently crept in, knocking the guard out with a butt of a sword, stealing his keys, and freeing Jack, before fleeing back to the ship and putting the town to their rutter. The pirate had been reunited with his loves once again, and all was right in the world.

The morning after his escape, Jack sat in his cabin. The sunlight shining in though his large windows and hitting him square in the face as he sat hunched over maps plotting the ship's course. A knock sounded at his door and without even looking up, his gruff voice granted whoever it was permission to enter.

"Cap'n," His first mate said, a tray of food in her hand. "Pete sent me up with this, said yeh requested it."

"Aye, that I did," Jack's dark eyes meet hers as she sent to tray on his table.

"Personally, I think yeh could have gotten off yer arse and gotten it yerself, but after the past few days I decided to be nice to yeh." She said, a half smile playing at her lips.

"AnaMaria," Jack sat up a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeh read it didn't yeh?"

Her head shot up and she turned to look at him. "'xcuse me cap'n?"

"The Rum Book," He said, his hands patting the brown book next to him. "Yeh read it. No need to deny it love, I can tell." He said once he saw the faked innocent look enter her eye.

"Captain Sparrow, I really... I just... I stumbled upon it and it... It just fell open. I didn't mean to read it." AnaMaria said quickly, her hands flying as she tried to explain herself.

Without warning Jack suddenly laughed. A genuine smile broke across his face and he shook his head.

"Look at yeh! Strong and stubborn AnaMaria lookin' like a child caught sneakin' sweets!" He chuckled again and AnaMaria narrowed her eyes and stuck out her chin. "No need to get defensive darlin', I'm just surprised that's all." He looked back down at his map and a few silent seconds pasted before he spoke again. "Tell Cotton he's grippin' the helm to hard and we're veering too far to the east."

AnaMaria's eyes widened as he spoke. How the hell did he do that? "Aye Cap'n." She turned and her boots thunked hollowly as she crossed the cabin.

"Oh and love?" She turned and her eyes met Jack's once again. "Don't tell anyone 'bout what yeh read or I'll be forced to kill yeh."

"Aye Cap'n."

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Don't forget to review! Love it, hate it, feel like pelting the story with vegetables... Let me know! 


	3. AnaMaria

**AnaMaria**

_Energetic and courageous, you stand up for your beliefs and for what you desire. You are independent, strong willed and fiercely competitive when needed although your ambition is tempered with patience. You maintain a positive attitude and with a more organized or practical approach to life material success is very likely. Your immensely loving and generous nature brings joy into peoples lives and ensures your happiness._

From the first time she saw him she knew exactly what kind of man he was. His love of gold sparkled in his smile, his love of alcohol swaggered with every step, and his love of women glinted in his eye, and that was all it took for her to see one thing radiating beautifully from him: freedom. It reeked out of every pore in his bronzed skin, it purred with every word he said, and it called out to her with every flutter of his hand. Freedom was all she really wanted, freedom was what had attracted her to him, and freedom was what kept her aboard his ship.

AnaMaria once owned a small boat herself. Nothing more than a dingy with cracking paint, but it was hers all the same. She loved it and watched over it like it was her child, and in its own way the small boat was. She had lived all her life on the small island of Tortuga and she had never wanted anything more than to escape from it, and that was what the small boat offered.

Granted, she couldn't go very far before the waves became to big and the small boat would roll and try to float atop her, (she had learned that the hard way) but those few small yards that it allowed her to venture was enough to make her happy, but it wasn't enough to keep her happy.

What AnaMaria really needed was an adventure. She needed a dagger in one hand and a bottle of rum in another; the life of a pirate. Of course, that was nothing but a childhood day dream, but she clung to it and hoped and prayed that someday she would get the guts to chop off her hair, tape down her chest, and sign aboard one of the ships that frequented the harbor. She had experience enough with her little dingy and the hard labor she had been doing for wages to pass as a sailor, but she didn't know if she had the acting ability to pull it off for months at a time.

That's why, on a hot in September day, as one lone man swaggering past her, his hair clinking with each step and his smile flashing gold, her fortunes began to look up. The man had stopped, turned to look over the strange sight of a woman applying sealant to a small rundown dingy, and then narrowed his eyes in thought. AnaMaria stopped, her hand in mid-brush stroke and looked up to meet his dark chocolate eyes.

"Can I 'elp yeh?" She said slowly as his eyes began to search her face and then look over the boat once again.

"Depends love," The man said, his boots clunking dully on the dock as he took a few steps toward her. "What do yeh do with a boat like tha'?"

"Fish and sail mostly," She said, her body slouching comfortably and she dropped the brush back into the can of sealant. "Why?"

"No need to explain that a boat sails darlin' that wasn't my question," He said coolly. AnaMaria rewarded him with an icy glare. "What I meant was, what is a girl like _you_ doing with a boat like _that_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She was on her feet before the man could blink. "I have every right to sail as much as the next person! Why should men be able to sail and work for proper wages and women be forced into the streets? Bastard." She said before spitting at his feet.

The man's bejeweled hands were raised innocently before he pressed his palms together in a mock prayer. "Apologies," He looked her over again before eyeing the boat once more. "What's your name?"

"AnaMaria," She responded, her arms crossing at her sides.

"Honor to meet yeh Miss AnaMaria, but I must be on me way. Maybe I'll catch you at the Faithful Bride around sunset?" His eyebrows rose suggestively as the words rolled of his tongue.

_Crack._

Her hand had met his check faster than a cannonball meets the side of ship. His braids came around and smacked him as his head flung to the side from the impact. Her hand print was blazed on his check and the man let out a yelp of pain.

"Only if I'm unfortunate." She said coldly before turning around and grinning.

**Freedom was so close she could see it**.

She did meet him that night. She wandered in, the sun slowly disappearing behind the clouds causing shades of pink to erupt in the sky. He was sitting at the bar, his hat still atop his arrogant head and his fingers tapping an incomprehensible tune on the bar. Not trying to disguise herself in the least, AnaMaria plunked herself in the chair next to him. The man's eyes glinting as a Cheshire grin spread across his lips.

"'Ello love," He said, his hand pushing a tankard toward her.

**Freedom was so close she could hear it**.

They talked quietly for awhile before both of them had consumed enough liquor to make them giddy. Soon they were both singing at the top of their lungs, the whole tavern quickly joining in. It wasn't long before a drunken AnaMaria was luring the pirate to her bedroom.

**Freedom was so close she could feel it**.

The two stumbled down the street, singing and cheering, his arm snaking around her waist and she too drunk to push him off. Gunshot exploded behind them, brawls erupted in front of them, and neither noticed. They eventually made it to AnaMaria's small room above a lonesome inn and before she had even put the key in the door, his rum stained lips were pressed her hers.

**Freedom was so close she could taste it**.

She awoke the next morning, her clothes strewn about her room, the sun casting odd shadows on her wall. She awoke that morning, her head pounding and her stomach churning. She awoke that morning completely alone.

Freedom had slipped through her fingers and walked out her door.

It wasn't long before she discovered her boat was missing and she felt as though she could murder someone.

Freedom had betrayed her.

She spent the next four months wallowing in self pity, working the bars around town and selling her soul to the devil so she could eat. Then, one foggy night in July, who should walk in but freedom himself.

She would get vengeance in any way she could.

AnaMaria found out that he was looking for a crew and it wasn't hard to convince his daft friend that she was a man. The man smelled of pigs and was more than three sheets to the wind and all she had to do was stuff her hair in her hat and speak as little as possible.

He lined them up on the dock for inspection, eyeing each one and walking down the line, rambling about honor and facing danger.

Freedom was a walking contradiction.

That's when she made her move. That's when she moved in for the kill.

"What's the benefit for us?"

She saw his head shoot up, his ears prick, and his eyes narrow. He recognized her. His face scrunched into a pained ball as he pulled her hat off her head and her long brown hair tumbled down her back.

"AnaMaria."

_Crack!_

It was more than he deserved.

It was nearly a year later and AnaMaria still saw her captain as freedom. Every time her eye met his and those dark puddles swirled, she saw it. Whenever the _Pearl_ was caught in a storm and he came to life like no one she'd ever met before, she saw it. Whenever his hand ran down his ships railing, his lips silently speaking to his ship, she saw it.

Freedom.

Freedom had hurt her, lied to her, and betrayed her, but freedom was piracy and freedom had freed her soul.

* * *

I should be studing for a history final, but all the talk of the times long since past had me thinking of pirates, and well, this is what became of it.

Review?


	4. William

**William Turner**

_Valiant Protector_

The warm Caribbean air weighed heavily upon the lagoon. Sorrow, thick as fog, clung to the trees and vibrated the walls of young William Turner's hut. While the Lagoon mourned the loss of the flamboyant Captain, William mourned the loss of his own life. All of his plans, all of his dreams, and all of his hopes had been stolen in one simple kiss.

"Simple?" He said aloud to himself. He was right. To call it simple was a gross understatement. Simple is what you call a kiss someone gives their grandmother. The kiss in question was complex, both in structure and meaning. Their lips had met, his hands tangled in her golden hair, and William's heart had been torn out of his chest. Even in the hot Caribbean air, just thinking about it sent shivers down Will's spine.

Yet, even through the betrayal, Will had come to terms with it. If Elizabeth loved someone else and he could no longer make her happy, then he would step aside. No, he would do better than that. Will would sail to the end of the earth and back again to save the man she loved.

"Jack Sparrow. She loves Jack Sparrow." He whispered to the night.

His eyes fell shut and he let a sigh escape his lips. He knew was he must do. He knew his place. He would protect her happiness at all costs. All he wanted was for Elizabeth to be happy and he would do anything to make her so.

Anything.

* * *

A/N: The website I was using to get my name meaning from seems to no longer be offering that service. Damn. So, I googled name meanings and, sadly, this is the best I could get for poor Will. I apologize, but it is do to a force out of my control. 


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